


Another... and another... and, fuck it, just leave me the bottle

by bryoneybrynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humour, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/pseuds/bryoneybrynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco is early picking up Scorpius from the Potter's house, he has no idea what he's in for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another... and another... and, fuck it, just leave me the bottle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clear_stream18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clear_stream18/gifts).



> So, the lovely requested a drabble with as/s or h/d, one pair walking in on the other. Just to be clear, Harry and Draco are not a couple in this - they're happily married to their respective wives. More's the pity, I know. *g*
> 
> **Warnings** : Vague boy smexing, swearing, silliness.
> 
> **Beta** : None yet. Hopefully I'll get this cleaned up later.
> 
> **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, her publishers and associated movie studios. No profit was made from this work. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of 18.

Another...and another...and, fuck it, just leave me the bottle

It was possibly the most horrifying moment of Draco’s entire life.

He’d thought he’d hit rock bottom when he found out that his son, his only son, was a Gryffindor. Then he’d discovered a fresh new level of hell when his son, _his only son_ , had come home for Christmas holidays and announced he was best friends with Albus Potter. And the next summer when said child Potter had actually stood in the Manor as an _invited guest_ , well, Draco had retired to his study with a bottle of his finest brandy and done his best to drown the fact from consciousness. And that it had just gone on and on, each year passing, the boys spending more and more time together, becoming closer and closer until even he couldn’t deny the obvious, no matter how much brandy he drank.

He’d begun to suspect the universe hated him and he hated it right back.

But now, now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that some cosmic force had it out for him because now, his son, _his only son_ , who, despite having been out of Hogwarts for three years now was wearing a Hogwarts jumper, a Slytherin school tie and little else _and_ who, despite having never worn his hair that way a day in his life, had his hair slicked back, every strand held in place with some sort of charm, was on his hands and knees in the centre of his bed getting what looked like the fucking of his life.

His partner had his head bent low, almost touching Scorpius’s back but Draco didn’t need to see his face to know who it was – there was only one person with hair like that, like an electrified hedgehog. Well, only one _other_ person, anyway.

Draco made a small choking sound. Scorpius’s eyes flew open and Albus’s head pulled away from Scorpius’s body, lifting up.

And bloody, fucking _hell_ if Albus Potter wasn’t wearing a pair of round, wire-rimmed spectacles that Draco knew full well he didn’t need. The boy’s hair was sweaty and dishevelled and stuck to his face, a small mercy because Draco would bet every Galleon in his vault that somewhere under that damp fringe, a lightning bolt was drawn on Albus’s forehead.

“Er...” came a voice from behind him and Draco had to close his eyes against the mortification, the utter humiliation of the moment. Bad enough that he knew his son was sleeping with a Potter, worse still to have to witness it, almost more than he could take to realise they were role-playing himself and Harry Potter. But that Potter himself should be there, seeing the whole thing...

It couldn’t be borne. Without opening his eyes, Draco pushed past Potter into the refuge of the hallway. He sagged against the wall, unable to hold himself up a second longer.

He heard Potter say, “We’ll just wait for you boys downstairs” and heard the snick of the door closing. He could feel it when Potter turned to face him, feel Potter’s eyes on him. Draco opened his eyes, pushed off the wall and started down the stairs, his need to be _away_ from Potter lending strength to his legs.

Potter, the bastard, followed him, indeed seemed to almost usher Draco down the stairs and into what Draco supposed passed for a study in Potter’s house. It was full of old furniture that showed every bit of abuse Potter’s spawn must have visited upon it over the course of their lives, and stacks of paper that seemed as though they would tip over at any second. But it also had alcohol. Draco reached for the proffered glass of Firewhisky with a desperate gratitude. 

Potter didn’t sit, but remained standing a few paces away, his hands in his pockets. He seemed disturbingly calm. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s not that bad.”

Draco almost spat out his drink. “Not that bad? Did you not see them? The uniform? The bloody...” He winced and forced the word out. “...glasses?”

Potter had the grace to look uncomfortable then. “I saw. I won’t pretend it isn’t embarrassing as shit, but...” He trailed off with a shrug.

Draco fixed Potter with his frostiest glare, drained his glass, and then held it out, shaking it so the ice cubes clinked.

Potter frowned and plucked the glass from Draco’s fingertips. “Another?”

“Please,” Draco said dryly.

Draco watched as Potter crossed the room, refilled the glass, and carried it back over to him. Draco took three large gulps, grimacing at the burn. “I don’t understand why they were even doing it.”

Potter’s eyebrows shot up. “Um...”

Draco scowled. “I meant I don’t know why they were... right now. Scorpius knew I was coming to pick him up.”

“In fairness, you are early.”

“Not that early,” Draco grumbled into his drink.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Looked to me like if it had been five minutes later, they likely would have been finished,” Potter said, laughter plain in his voice. When Draco looked over at him, Potter was grinning widely.

“Do you have to be so fucking amused?”

Potter’s grin grew even wider. “Well, it is sort of funny.”

“It is no such thing.”

Potter’s expression turned thoughtful and he studied Draco’s face for a moment. “You know, with his hair like that, Scorpius is a dead ringer for you at that age. For a second there, I thought I was looking at you.”

Draco closed his eyes and fell back against his seat. “Oh my god, please shut up.”

“Fitting, too.”

Draco opened his eyes to give Potter a questioning glance.

“That you’d be the bottom,” Potter said, his patient voice suggesting that he believed his statement made some sort of sense. 

Draco bolted to standing. “Excuse me?”

Potter’s grin was back, the fucker. “It just makes sense. Suits, you know.” 

“No, I most certainly do not know.”

“Come on, Malfoy. Back then, if you and I had ever, you _so_ would have been the bottom.” Potter’s lips twitched; presumably he was trying to hold back his laughter. 

Draco glared hard. “I hate you down to the very core of my soul, Potter.”

Potter did laugh then, and then he retrieved the bottle of Firewhisky from the side bar and topped up Draco’s glass. 

“I know you do, Malfoy. Now, let’s get one last drink in you because I think I hear the boys coming down the stairs.”

“Oh, god. Quick, before they get here, Obliviate me.”

Potter shook his head. “No way. If I have to live with that memory, so do you.”

“We could Obliviate each other,” Draco offered and tossed back his drink. 

“Sorry, Malfoy.”

Potter took the empty glass from Draco and set it on a nearby table. Then he put a hand on Draco’s shoulder and steered him toward the door. They rounded the corner into the hallway where their sons waited, red-faced and unable to look up from their feet. Albus’s spectacles and lightning bolt were gone, but Scorpius’s hair was still slicked back.

Draco felt a wave of nausea wash over him and he scowled at Potter. “To the very core of my soul, Potter. To the very core of my soul.”

 

♥


End file.
